


My plans for tomorrow. -SH

by sherlockholmeslives



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:39:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockholmeslives/pseuds/sherlockholmeslives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock sends an email to John, describing what he has in store.</p><p> </p><p>"Regardless of everything that’s happened between us, you’re still a little self-conscious. I tell you you’re an idiot for that, but it’s okay because you’re mine.</p><p>I tell you you look charming like this; naked on the bed, arms spread like Jesus. Appropriate, as you are my Idol and I shall worship you. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	My plans for tomorrow. -SH

It is early evening. We have eaten dinner at a lovely restaurant, the food was perfect. We had wine, we laughed.  
  
We go back to the hotel room. You’re still astounded by it all; the extravagance makes you giddy and the wine makes you pliable. I tell you I want to try something - I want to tie you down, have you in whatever manner I want, own you completely.  
  
You do not hesitate, not even for a moment.  
  
—-  
  
You are nude; I am still clothed. You claim this isn’t fair, but this is my game, so I decide. I fetch the rope I bought earlier; fine, silky nylon, thin enough to knot easily but thick enough not to damage circulation. You know I’ve thought this through, planned it; we both know that excites you.  
  
You lay back on the bed, exposed but safe. I tie your wrists to the bedposts, leaving enough slack to move your shoulders but not enough to move more than a few inches.  
  
Regardless of everything that’s happened between us, you’re still a little self-conscious. I tell you you’re an idiot for that, but it’s okay because you’re mine.  
  
I tell you you look charming like this; naked on the bed, arms spread like Jesus. Appropriate, as you are my Idol and I shall worship you.  
  
  
I start with your fingers. Look at them, feel them, taste them. The texture of your roughened fingertips against my tongue, the slight groan in your throat as I slip two fingers into my mouth and suck gently. I moan lowly; you quiver; I suck harder.  
  
Irritatingly slowly, I kiss up your arm. Cataloging the changes from wrist, to forearm, to the crook to the bicep. God, I love your arms; hands. I reach your shoulder, mouth at the joint as you still. The skin here is less sensitive, but I want to know every inch of you.  
  
I move from the edge of the bed, and kneel over you instead, careful to keep contact to a minimum. My clothed form hovers over yours, and I lean down, whispering sweet French nothings into your ear. You shiver; I kiss your ear, trail my tongue along the curve of the shell of it, then nip at the lobe. your breath catches; I note this for later.  
  
I kiss you on the lips for the first time since dinner. You taste of wine and blood and sand, and I will gladly drink of this forever. A deeper kiss, you arch up as much as you can as my tongue pressed against yours, passionate but short-lived - I’m not done yet.  
  
I move down your body, exploring with my eyes, my fingers, my lips, my tongue. The chill and the anticipation has made your nipples hard already. I catch one between my teeth, you hiss in a breath of air as your hips twitch, such slow stimulation must be maddening. I bite, suck, lap at the nub of flesh until you become used to the sensation, and then I move down further. The curve of your ribcage, the plane of your stomach, the soft jut of your hipbones. I lick at the dip on the inside of your hip, it tastes different here; muskier. You anticipate contact; you strain for it.  
  
I place both hands on your upper thigh as I move down the bed further, ignoring your groin (though it grows steadily more insistent) for now. I love your legs; such history in them. Psychosomatica, scars; they are John, and they are perfect. Your feet, when I reach them, are the same. I memorise every curve of tissue, every scar, every twitch of reaction as I run my hands over calloused skin. Even the soles of your feet are beautiful to me.  
  
It’s been half an hour, and I’ve not touched you yet, not _there_.  
  
I crawl back up the bed, satisfied with my initial investigations, requiring more specific data. I kiss you, deeply, breathing in the air from your lungs, breathing you in. My tongue wrestles yours again, for longer this time, less tentative and more intent. I taste every point of your mouth, learning every inch. I will know all of you, I remind you silently.  
  
You make a vague, irritated noise as I break the kiss, your skin buzzing with energy yet to be unleashed. I move down your body again, the folds of my shirt dragging lightly against your skin, causing it to prickle in anticipation.  
  
I press slow kisses up the inside of your thigh. You taste different here, and the scent of you is making my head spin. Finally, after what must seem like hours to the both of us, I take you into my mouth, engulfing your length the best I can in one swift movement. Your hips buck as I greedily suck at your flesh, and it’s not long before I begin to despise my own clothing, discomfort beginning to grow under the layers of fabric.  
  
I sit up a little, catching your eye as you sigh in discontent at the sudden lack of contact. You look down your body at me, and I grin, taking your cock in my hand before licking a wide stripe along the underside, cherishing the way your body trembles. The air is heavy in the room, and I begin to lose my sense of decorum.  
  
I stand, slowly stripping myself of the layers of fabric. It’s almost a striptease, and your eyes don’t leave me even for a second. It’s not long before I’m as lacking in clothing as you are, Dolce and Gabbana forgotten instantly as I crawl onto the bed. I kneel over you on all fours, leaning down to kiss you again, deeply; messier this time, so much less control as time goes on, and I grow more desperate as you do.  
  
I lean to the side, taking the small bottle of lubricant from the bedside drawer, then press my lips against yours once more, quickly, unable to resist kissing you again for just a moment. I pour a small amount of the liquid onto the palm of my hand then coat your cock with it, liberally. It warms quickly to your body heat, and I feel myself thrumming, reverberating as I hold myself above you, almost regretting dragging this out for so long; desperate for you, all of you, everywhere. Slicked and rock hard, you bite your lip as I begin to sink down onto you, my head falling back as my nerve endings come afire. It’s agonisingly slow, and I whimper as I am impaled in slow motion.  
  
 _“Oh, God, John…”_  
  
You’re in such a state as I am, breathing through your nose to try to keep some sense of calm. Regardless, a thin sheen of sweat layers on your skin already, the scent of it mixing with the heady air.  
  
I sit back fully, moaning unintentionally as you fill me completely, and my breath shakes. I arch forward a little, raking my fingernails down your chest to your stomach, and I groan again as your body arches to the touch, your cock scraping against my insides as you move. I regather myself, starting to slowly move forwards and back, almost separating us completely only to have you fill me again.  
  
Somewhere amongst the raked nails and whispered words we find a rhythm, and you shift a little on the bed, bending your legs and planting your feet on the bed to gain leverage. Somehow you feel even deeper now, and my mind is completely clouded into obscurity by sensation, as I am wilfully, gleefully cleaved in two, every cell of my body screaming for more, oh god.  
  
I lean forward, and you shift your hips up to compensate, making me gasp as I kiss you again, desperate for more of everything, more touch more taste more sound. You groan into the kiss, a broken sound, and your body is trembling as you impale me again, and again. Our breathing is becoming erratic by now, our faces flushed. I grind down against you, gasping aloud as your cock hits my prostate and I find I can hardly breathe. You’re biting your lip again, biding your time but going mad, the buildup of sensation over the last hour enough to drive anyone to bedlam. A layer of sweat slicks my body, and I am flushed pink as you thrust up into me. I’m too far gone to hold back anymore, and I groan with each impalement, my hands gripping for purchase on your shoulders as I kiss you once more. It’s messy, desperate, and my blood is on fire as it courses through me; your lips quiver against mine as the pressure builds at the base of our spines. Your name is a mantra on my lips, and mine on yours, everything in the world falling away until it’s just us, breathing each other in, joined like ouroborus as I swear there can never be anyone but you, and you are the world and the sun and the stars except you will always matter even when the galaxies cease to.  
  
They’re hardly kisses now, just mouths moving together, to wrecked in passion to kiss but too desperate for contact to be apart. My fingernails dig into your skin, and l am trembling, my whole body beginning to quiver as I stave off the inevitable. You’re so close, you warn me, your words broken, and you look into my eyes and it’s like seeing you for the first time; the world stops and I see your soul, in all it’s glory, and you shine and are the most beautiful being in the world to me. I crash back to reality as your legs begin to buckle, and I realise I can hear myself murmuring against your lips, “ _yes, god, yes, god…_ ”  
  
We come together and it’s like lightning, every cell of our bodies screaming, crying and moaning to the heavens all at once until I lose comprehension completely and there are no thoughts, only sensation and you and me left in the world. My breathe is shattered, and I’m left gasping for oxygen as we stop moving, my body still impaled on you into the afterglow. After a few moments, allowing the blood to return to my brain, I move off you, gasping even now as the over-extended nerve endings sing out. Before I give in to it completely, I reach up, untying your wrists quickly before collapsing at your side, my breath and heart still racing as I curl into your side, my head on your arm, my arm around your waist.  
  
I whisper sweet French nothings against your skin, and you shiver.  
  
-SH


End file.
